


What these walls could tell

by Amara1783



Series: DutchPolitician!RPS [2]
Category: Dutch!Politician!RPS
Genre: M/M, RPS - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-04-26
Updated: 2003-04-26
Packaged: 2017-10-06 03:33:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amara1783/pseuds/Amara1783
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>The madness doth continue. Over lunch today ntamara was telling me that it was my 'destiny' to write politicianslash, that it is 'a gift'. Ahum. She has been encouraging me every chance she gets, has betaed this, and has even translated the newspaper article that was the inspiration for this story, which you can find <a href="http://www.livejournal.com/users/ntamara/26005.html">here</a>. In short, she is an incredibly great friend, even if she is a demon sent from hell ;) *pouncehugs ntamara*</p><p>This story takes place the day after my previous story 'Patience & Persuasion gettin' jiggy with it'. Wouter Bos is the leader of the labour party, the PvdA, and Jan-Peter Balkenende, who has often been compared with Harry Potter, is the leader of the christian democrats, the CDA. 'Bea' refers to Queen Beatrix, Willem-Alexander is the crown prince, and 'speculaas' are Dutch spice cookies eaten in the winter, here with coffee but preferably with hot chocolate. Jan Marijnissen is the leader of the socialist party, the SP. Oh, and one more thing: there is a tradtion in Holland among the left-leaning parties not to wear ties.</p>
    </blockquote>





	What these walls could tell

**Author's Note:**

> The madness doth continue. Over lunch today ntamara was telling me that it was my 'destiny' to write politicianslash, that it is 'a gift'. Ahum. She has been encouraging me every chance she gets, has betaed this, and has even translated the newspaper article that was the inspiration for this story, which you can find [here](http://www.livejournal.com/users/ntamara/26005.html). In short, she is an incredibly great friend, even if she is a demon sent from hell ;) *pouncehugs ntamara*
> 
> This story takes place the day after my previous story 'Patience &amp; Persuasion gettin' jiggy with it'. Wouter Bos is the leader of the labour party, the PvdA, and Jan-Peter Balkenende, who has often been compared with Harry Potter, is the leader of the christian democrats, the CDA. 'Bea' refers to Queen Beatrix, Willem-Alexander is the crown prince, and 'speculaas' are Dutch spice cookies eaten in the winter, here with coffee but preferably with hot chocolate. Jan Marijnissen is the leader of the socialist party, the SP. Oh, and one more thing: there is a tradtion in Holland among the left-leaning parties not to wear ties.

Wouter hated wearing a tie. It always felt too tight, which made him want to gasp for air. He resisted the urge to run a finger under his collar, and instead forced himself to concentrate on the business at hand. He knew Jan-Peter had been talking to Zalm, that much was obvious from the cool reserve with which he had been greeted at the beginning of the meeting. Wouter had thought that after their discussion yesterday in 't Torentje they had come to an agreement. But apparently that was not the case: Jan-Peter couldn't be won over by just one blow-job. He was going to have to seduce him; keep him away from that liberalist sneak Zalm and convince him that their's was the true union. That was the reason for his wearing a tie. Wouter knew that on some level Jan-Peter would appreciate it, even if he didn't say anything. At the moment Jan-Peter wasn't even looking at him, but at Bea. She'd been nattering for far too long, and he'd lost interest ages ago, but Jan-Peter listened as if his life depended on it.

Wouter remembered Marijnissen's huskily whispered advice the night before, as they lay side by side, covered in sweat, the evidence of their passion all over the sheets.

"Give him a little time to save face. But not too long. Remind him that this is a democracy; the people have spoken, and they have chosen you to rule alongside each other."

Marijnissen had paused then, his expression turning somwhat wistful, and Wouter had reached out and cupped his cheek, stroking gently with his thumb. Marijnissen had smiled, and kissed his palm. "I wish things could have been different," he said.

"I wish that we had enough of a majority to rule together. There are so many things we could accomplish, you and I. Holland would become a great country, with no poverty or inequality: just one people united, strong and true, standing pure and noble against the injustice of the world."

Wouter remembered smiling. It was a pleasant fantasy.

Then Marijnissen had continued: "Balkenende will come around after a while. He has no other choice. None of the other parties want to govern, except the VVD, and they're not big enough to form a goverment with. He has no other choice but you and the PvdA. Not exactly love at first sight, I know, but perhaps it will blossom between the sheets." The last had been said with a mischievous grin, that made Marijnissen look younger and less care-worn. Wouter had grinned back.

"Right now I'd rather something blossom between these sheets," he'd said, rolling Marijnissen on top of him and spreading his legs.

Wouter smiled at the memory, and shifted slightly in his chair. It had gotten to be a rather late night, as it turned out. He forced himself to concentrate on the here and now. Bea was talking, using her formal voice, and Jan-Peter, across the mahogany table from him, was paying rapt attention to every word she said. He looked so staid, with his dark suit and respectable tie and wire-rimmed glasses; the picture of piety and virtue, of competence and integrity. Rather like a  
relic from a past age. The language he used was like that too... very proper and correct.

Bea had finally stopped talking, and Jan-Peter had started explaining his reticence to form a coalition with the PvdA.

"Majesty, I must again express my reservations about forming a government with the PvdA." He paused, and looked down at the table, his features assuming the sulky expression that Wouter found all too familiar. When Jan-Peter continued he spoke more softly. "There are very large diferences between us. I just don't know what he sees in me."

Bea smiled sympathetically, and patted Jan-Peter's hand. "I wouldn't worry about that my dear boy. Arranged unions like this are always awkward in the beginning, but I'm sure it will all work out fine in the end."

Wouter felt like screaming. Why was everyone acting as if the CDA was being _forced_ to form a goverment with the PvdA, as if that was the most dreadful thing imaginable? His was the second-largest party, damnit, the CDA only had one seat more. The people had spoken and this was the outcome.

Wouter glared surreptitiously at Bea and Jan-Peter. They were both relics, he thought venomously, remnants of past ages. A monarchy in this day and age was an evident anachronism, as was a political party based on religion. As if the ramblings of a bunch of prophets two thousand years ago could provide effective solutions to today's problems. And yet here he was, stuck with it.

The CDA was the only viable road to power for the PvdA. He had to win Jan-Peter over, despite everything. Otherwise the CDA would just procrastinate until the people had forgotten their promise not to form a coalition with the VVD and the LPF, and then run back to their former colleagues. That coalition hadn't even lasted three months, but the very fact of it's existence was an affront to every principle Wouter held dear. The CDA/VVD/LPF coalition had been the most right-wing government The Netherlands had ever had. That must not be allowed to happen again. With the problems within the LPF sorted out there was too great a chance that such a coalition would this time be able to sit out its term. It mustn't be allowed to happen! Wouter assumed his most charming smile. "I'm sure we'll be able to work things out. After all, we both want what's best for Holland, and that's what's important."

Bea smiled back, but Jan-Peter was more hesitant. Guarded and wary, like a small animal being stalked by a tiger.

Bea looked from one to the other, a knowing gleam in her eyes. Then she rose to her feet.

"Gentlemen, if you'll excuse me, I have some pressing business to attend to." Jan-Peter had risen to his feet the moment Bea had shown signs of rising. "Show-off," thought Wouter. Only now did he rise, inclining his head in feigned respect. Jan-Peter hastened to open the door, and bowed Bea out.

Then they were alone in the room. The afternoon sun streamed in through the long windows all along the west wall. Dust motes danced in the light. It was very quiet.

"I understand that you don't want to work with me," Wouter began, making a supreme effort at friendliness. "You wanted and expected to work with Zalm and the VVD, and now that it seems you have to work with us you're hesitant. I know that it will take a little getting used to, but I'm sure that between us we can lay the basis for an enduring partnership."

He reached out and stroked lightly along the back of Jan-Peter's hand. Jan Peter looked down at where their hands touched, and then slowly back up to meet his eyes. He did not break the contact, and neither did Jan-Peter. Their eyes held.

Then Wouter stepped in closer, deep into Jan-Peter's personal space. It was daring, he knew; he was very much aware of the intrusion, of the fine line he was walking between seduction and intimidation. Slowly he leaned in and brushed his lips against Jan-Peter's. His toungue flickered out and traced across the closed lips, and he cupped a hand behind Jan-Peter's head, stroking through the short brown hair. Hesitantly Jan-Peter opened his mouth, letting him in. Jan-Peter's mouth was hot and slick and wet, and Wouter wished he had time to analyse the different flavours, to separate the taste of the coffee they had been drinking from the cinnamon of the speculaas. Instead Wouter pulled back, just a little, just enough to get Jan-Peter to move forward and claim control. Which he did, hungrily; as if all the passion he normally kept so tightly reined, of which Wouter had only seen glimpses, had now been set free.

Wouter yielded himself up to the kiss. He slid a hand under Jan-Peter's jacket, so that only the thin cloth of his colleague's shirt was between them, and rolled his hips forward, bringing their groins in line. Jan-Peter reached for him, almost demandingly, sliding a hand down his back and over his ass, pulling them closer. Wouter rejoiced a this show of enthusiasm, and started walking them backwards towards the long mahogany table. Jan-Peter got the hint, complying willingly, and Wouter pushed him gently onto his back, coming to stand between Jan-Peter's spread legs.

Barely keeping his fingers from trembling he unbuttoned the various buttons and unbuckled the smooth black leather belt, all the while thinking that Jan-Peter was far too formally dressed. Wouter looked down at him, shirt open and trousers undone, wire-rimmed glasses somewhat askew. His red tie was loose but still around his neck, and Wouter decided to leave it there.

He toungued one nipple, then the other, and felt Jan-Peter's reaction from the tremors in his skin. He licked swiftly down his chest to his navel, and licked a circle around it before going even lower. Jan-Peter bucked up as he took the already hard cock in his mouth, and Wouter gloried in the control he had, the power, Jan-Peter beneath him, completely at his mercy. He sucked sharply, and then when Jan-Peter gasped released him completely. Wouter wanted this to last. Jan-Peter opened his eyes and stared at him. "Don't stop," he said.

Wouter took in the sight of his prey, spread out on the beautifully polished wood, in this expensively elegant room, the pale light streaming in, making his skin look very pale. On the opposite wall the portraits of former monarchs looked sternly down, their serious Calvinist faces set, it seemed, in a mask of disapproval. Wouter felt no connection to them at all, but Jan-Peter obvioulsy did. He was their heir by all but blood, the powerful and righteous leader that would lead Holland bravely into a virtuous future.

His train of thought was broken by Jan-Peter reaching for him, drawing him back down, but Wouter resisted a moment longer. His tie really was getting too tight. He removed it decisively, leaving the noose in place, and slid it over Jan-Peter's purpling cock. The look of utter disbelief he got in response was incredibly satisfying. He tightened the noose firmly and looped the remaining length around Jan-Peter's balls, and then back up. Jan-Peter tried to control his reactions, but was unable to stop his muted whimpers and soft moans. His thighs trembled as Wouter once again took his cock in his mouth.

///

Willem-Alexander was surprised to find his mother in her sitting room, on the couch in front of the coffee table, sipping a cup of tea and leafing through the latest issue of _Paris Match_.

"Aren't you supposed to be meeting with the CDA and the PvdA this morning Mummy?" he asked.

His mother looked up from her magazine and smiled. "When you've umpired as many formations as I have, my son, you'll know it's often best to leave them alone for a while at a certain point. It lets things develop… naturally."

Willem-Alexander thought about that for a minute, and then decided it was too complicated for him to figure out. He supposed it was a good thing his mother didn't look to be retiring any time soon.


End file.
